


Stoned in Paradise

by chai_and_coffee



Series: Shallura Week 2018 [6]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Melinda Writes Fanfiction, Melinda does an Appear, Romance, Shallura Week, Shallura Week 2018, body soul, shallura - Freeform, shiroxallura, slowburn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 13:30:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16119461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chai_and_coffee/pseuds/chai_and_coffee
Summary: Bodies are not meant to be so bound.That’s the phrase, isn’t it? That’s the phrase that humans use when trying to excuse infidelity, or to express that bodies are simply meant to house one’s spirit, nothing more, nothing less.But—what is the phrase to express that the soul in your body—isn’t you? Sure, the body has the same looks, features, eyes, everything, because it’s your body. But—when the soul isn’t yours, is it really you?If you went up to a regular person and asked them those questions, they would probably look at you crazy before asking why this mattered.But to Shiro, it did matter. It did matter, considering the fact that it applied directly to him.(Written for Shallura Week: prompt: body | soul)





	Stoned in Paradise

Bodies are not meant to be so bound.

 

That’s the phrase, isn’t it? That’s the phrase that humans use when trying to excuse infidelity, or to express that bodies are simply meant to house one’s spirit, nothing more, nothing less. 

 

But—what is the phrase to express that the soul in your body—isn’t you? Sure, the body has the same looks, features, eyes, everything, because it’s your body. But—when the soul isn’t yours, is it really you?

 

If you went up to a regular person and asked them those questions, they would probably look at you crazy before asking why this mattered. 

 

But to Shiro, it did matter. It did matter, considering the fact that it applied directly to him. 

 

For him, it was easy to comprehend. Kuron—as they had decided to call him, in memoriam—had been his replacement soul. One body, two souls. Shiro had been stuck somewhere else, while Kuron unwittingly wreaked havoc on everything. 

 

No, the issue wasn’t Shiro trying to comprehend anything. The issue was making others comprehend it. 

 

Keith was easy. Keith trusted him, knew that this Shiro was the Shiro who had raised him, who had been his everything, his brother. Keith was simple to explain to, and the teen had accepted it without a doubt. The hug that Shiro had received from his brother had made him feel a bit more at home. 

 

Pidge had taken a bit longer, not that it was complex for her brain to understand or anything. Simply because his explanation offered so many variables that she hadn’t been prepared to equate. Nevertheless, she had welcomed him back with open arms. 

 

Lance didn’t requite an explanation at all. Shiro hadn’t even had to explain what had happened, Lance simply wrapped him in a tight hug, and stifled back tears. It was with Lance that Shiro realized that his mentoring influence stretched way past Keith. Hunk was along the same lines, simply tearfully expressing his happiness that Shiro was back. Either way, Shiro was quite pleased that they trusted him unconditionally. 

 

Coran listened to his explanation, asking him to repeat things over and over, but not to show distrust or suspicion, but the contrary, to figure out if there had been any negative effects of what had happened that could pose a threat to Shiro. So far, the only possible con they had come up with was headaches when Shiro remembered the clone’s memories. But Shiro was happy that Coran was there, helping him work through this trauma. 

 

There was one person who didn’t bother to listen to his side of the story, who didn’t bother welcoming him back with open arms. There was one person he couldn’t quite figure out. 

 

He had been close to her, before he had died. He had been close enough to her to pull her closer, press a soft kiss to her neck, and make her moan his name in the sweetest of exercises. Their relationship had been new, but tender, but very shortlived. 

 

There was no trace of the love that had been in her eyes before he had died. Sure, he knew that she had moved on, that she had tried something with Lotor that eventually ended up in her heart getting broken even more. Nevertheless, she didn’t seem interested in his explanation, or even his attempts to grow close to her once more. She remained an untouchable figure. 

 

And he was fine with that. He was ready to give her time, anything, because he had seen the memories and seen the hurt in her eyes as Kuron distanced himself from her. He had seen the way she grew troubled with the growing coldness between them, and he had also seen her eventually give up on anything remaining between them. 

 

To her, he supposed, the lack of warmth eventually lead to her believing that she had been played. 

 

Of course, she knew that he wasn’t Kuron. Because when she had saved him from the Astral Plane, when she had injected his soul back into his body, she had seemed absolutely relieved to see him. She knew about what happened, she knew that the clone wasn’t him, she knew, she knew, _she knew_. 

 

Yet, she still distanced herself from him. He gave her some time. Days turned into weeks, weeks stretched into months, and she avoided him. Completely. During the entire time of their landing on Earth, she didn’t talk to him. 

 

There was no interaction. Shiro found himself wishing to be _Kuron_ to have at least a bit of interaction with her. 

 

It got to the point where she would deliberately avoid him. After the entire issue with the attack on Earth had been settled, the paladins had stayed to rest up and relax. She had bumped into him on his way to the gym, and her way to her room. 

 

She ensured that she would never use that way again. 

 

It got to the point where outsiders were noticing, and that was where Shiro drew the line. Wasn’t this starting to get a little bit too excessive? Too excessive to the point where _everyone_ started to notice?

 

As soon as he had the chance to see her, he wrapped his hand around her wrist, and tugged her into a nearby room, shutting the door behind him. 

 

“Look.” He took a deep breath to begin this calmly, patiently, but all the days of frustration came bubbling up in a hot outpour. “I don’t understand what your problem is. I’ve apologized for my clone’s actions _over and over_ despite the fact that I shouldn’t have to, I’ve personally made it my mission to give you time to recuperate, but the fact that you still isolate yourself from me and make it hard for me to do my job is starting to wear on me. So if you could _please_ , enlighten me on what I did that was _so_ wrong..” He snapped, his voice raw and full of emotion. 

 

Her head had ducked during his little rant, and her white hair had floated down like a soft curtain separating the woman from him. It took him a few moments to realize that her shoulders were shaking, and that he had made her cry. 

 

“Oh—Allura, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry. Tell me what I did wrong..” He mumbled in a hush tone, gathering her into his arms. 

 

She fell into his arms, seeking the comfort, her voice cracking with the pressure of her sobs. 

 

“I’m not mad—I feel—-my fault, everytime I get close to someone—this happens—“ She cried into his shoulder, her tears staining the dark material of his uniform. 

 

If he hadn’t thought it was possible before, it was, seeing how Shiro’s heart broke even more. He pieced the pieces together. She had gotten close to him, he had died, she had gotten close to Lotor, he had turned insane and evil and tried to kill them….

 

This wasn’t about anything that he did at all. This was about the fact that she was scared that if she got too close to him again, then something would happen. 

 

“Allura..oh, Princess..” He crooned, his fingers slowly stroking through the strands of her hair. “Sweetheart.” He said, using the term that he had so endearingly called her ages ago. “None of it’s your fault, honey. None of it’s your fault.” He said softly. 

 

He could tell that it would take a while for her to believe him, but she stayed in his arms and let him tenderly wipe away her tears, so he supposed that was a good enough start.

 

From there, it was a fragile ascent. He slowly, slowly, expanded the trust of herself, and with each passing day, made her feel content that she wasn’t the catalyst of all bad things. He healed her with every wink, every embrace, every kiss, slowly, slowly.

 

He brought a steadiness to it all. And she began to believe it too. 

 

Like now, she climbs into bed, scoots to the center of the bed where he is already resting, and presses a soft kiss to his lips. 

 

“It’s your body,” She whispers, “But it’s also your soul.”

 

And he smiles. 

**Author's Note:**

> leave a comment, tell me what you thought!
> 
> drop a kudos if you enjoyed!
> 
> catch me on tumblr: @chai-and-coffee


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